


A God's Prisoner

by Sekiraku



Series: Salt Gods [3]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Blood Drinking, Boats and Ships, Curses, Fantasy, Hostage Situations, Human Sacrifice, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Character of Color, LGBTQ Female Character, Lesbian Character, Lesbian Character of Color, Master/Servant, Master/Slave, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Power Imbalance, Prisoner of War, Slavery, Vampires, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-07
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:07:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23046025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sekiraku/pseuds/Sekiraku
Summary: For everyone wondering how Gyuri is doing with Theodora (Hi, Awkward_Dragon and Merrr!), the answer is... not well. :PI plan on alternating between Kenta and Gyuri's perspectives. I hope y'all enjoy! <3
Series: Salt Gods [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1642624
Comments: 9
Kudos: 33





	1. Chapter 1

KENTA

Kenta’s hands were shaking a bit as he gripped the tray and headed for the little curtained alcove.

Lord Theodora said that the Surgish woman’s name was Gyuri. Kenta, for his part, had a hard time thinking of the terrifying, bedraggled creature as any kind of person, let alone one with a name. Poor Hiroki’s arm was bandaged from his effort yesterday to comb her hair.

Kenta didn’t understand her undiscriminating hostility. At first, of course she would be terrified. She was trapped on a ship full of enemy gods. But surely by now she understood that she would not be harmed? Every day, Lord Theodora spent anywhere from fifteen minutes to two hours crouched in front of her, talking softly in Surgish. She had seen that the humans around the god weren’t frightened of her, hadn’t she? And none of the men had touched her, other than Hiroki. Why didn’t she understand yet that she was safe as well?

Maybe the Surgish were all just stupid brutes like everyone said.

Well, at least Kenta should be safe from her lashing out. He didn’t have to touch her, or even get too close. He just had to put down the tray and scurry away, like he did every night at suppertime. Slightly heartened, he pushed through the curtain Lord Theodora had hung to give the woman a bit of privacy in her chosen lair.

Gyuri hunched in her corner, her back pressed against the wall and her knees drawn tight against her chest. Her wild, pale tresses, unconquered by Hiroki’s best efforts, tangled over her arms and obscured her face almost entirely. Kenta’s own face itched with vicarious irritation at the sight. How could she stand to just leave it like that?

The woman must have sensed his gaze, because her head moved slightly and one baleful, bloodshot eye glowered up at him from the tangle of hair.

Kenta froze, feeling a chill snake down his spine and a wild pounding start in his chest.

“H-Hello,” he said idiotically.

Gyuri glared and said nothing. The moment stretched impossibly long, and still he couldn’t tear his eyes away from that fearsome one-eyed gaze.

Suddenly, the world lurched all around him. The floor tipped, the walls slid, and Kenta scrambled to keep himself upright. The tray seemed to fly out of his hands. He barely registered the crash of breaking pottery in his efforts to keep his feet.

The floor steadied and Kenta let out a shaky breath as he relaxed. Would he ever get used to living on a ship? These sudden pitches and rolls were intolerable.

As his body centered itself, he became aware that his hands were empty. Shit, had he dropped anything on Gyuri? His eyes flew open and he opened his mouth to apologize.

The Surgish woman was no longer huddled in her corner. She was a dark blur of motion, rushing right at Kenta, and then her arm was around his waist, yanking him against her wiry body, and her other arm was snaking around his shoulders and something sharp was in her hand and it was pressing against his _throat…_

Kenta had always been a coward. The other boys had flung the word often enough at the temple, and he knew they were right. He hated war and chasing games- the sight of a friend running right at him always made his belly drop with too-real fear. Ghost stories and murder songs gave him horrible screaming nightmares. He always cried when he was scolded, even now that he had passed his twentieth year. When he’d gotten seasick and thrown up all over Lord Theodora the first time she’d tried to drink from him, he’d even wet himself a little in his initial blinding terror. But with a Surgish barbarian threatening to cut his throat Kenta felt only a strange hollow calm, as if his head were full of nothing but air.

“Kenta?” It was Hisao’s voice, and Hisao himself poking his head through the curtain. “I heard a crash, is everything…”

Hisao’s eyes widened as he took in the scene, and the blood drained from his face. Kenta knew he should be sharing the older man’s panic but all he felt was the same dreamy weightlessness. _Was_ this a dream? That would explain his calm.

Gyuri snarled something in Surgish and gripped Kenta even tighter. 

Hisao vanished and Kenta could hear him screaming for Lord Theodora. That was a little strange to hear. Hisao was so calm and levelheaded, Kenta hadn’t even known he could scream. Gyuri made no move to stop him. 

Kenta noticed that the stench of her stale sweat was surrounding him as firmly as her arms. Of course… she hadn’t bathed in at least a week, probably longer. Between that and her uncombed hair, how could she stand to be in her own body? Perhaps she couldn’t. The woman’s skinny chest was rising and falling absurdly fast against his back. Had all of the fear he ought to be feeling transferred to his captor somehow? Kenta felt an absurd desire to laugh.

Lord Theodora’s feet didn’t even make a sound on the floor as she approached. One minute the curtain was still, the next it was swinging wildly behind the god.

And the god was _enraged._

Lord Theodora looked intimidating at the best of times. Her nose had been broken before, her mouth tended towards frowns, and her brows were thick and heavy and she had a habit of peering out from under them. Even so, Kenta had never dreamed that she could look as terrifying as she did now. Her scarred, work-hardened hands were drawn into fists, her eyes were blazing furiously, her lips were drawn back in a snarl that showed her fangs, and her whole body was trembling with what he was fairly sure was barely restrained force.

Kenta’s strange calm dissolved. Fear punched into him so sharply that he gasped softly, throat working against the sharp object Gyuri still pressed against his throat. Oh gods oh gods oh gods oh…

It had been only the tiniest of noises, but it still drew Lord Theodora’s gaze. Her eyes found his.

“It’s all right, Kenta.” Her voice was rough and blunt as ever. “You won’t come to any harm.”

Then she began shouting in Surgish, and Gyuri pressed her weapon harder against his skin. The god’s eyes widened and her flow of words stopped abruptly.

Now Gyuri was shouting instead. She was holding Kenta so tightly that he could feel her throat vibrating against his shoulder. Her hands were shaking as hard as the rest of her body now. What if she broke his skin without even meaning to? What if she punctured a vein?  


“Please help me,” Kenta croaked.  


It was a stupid thing to ask. Obviously his master was displeased that he had been taken and intended to rescue him. Still, Kenta was afraid now and he wanted so badly to be away from this woman and her stink and her weapon and her dangerous shaking hands. It was desperate, childlike need, and the tone of his appeal was childlike as well.  


He hadn’t really expected Lord Theodora even to notice his plea. However, before he had even finished speaking her eyes were locked on him, and then in a movement too fast for his eyes to follow she was there, almost pressing against him and smashing him between herself and Gyuri, and the Surgish woman’s weapon wasn’t against his throat anymore because the god had yanked her arm into the air.  


The struggle lasted only an instant. Really, it was hardly a struggle at all. Kenta saw Lord Theodora’s hand locked around Gyuri’s thin wrist, and she seemed to be twisting it. Gyuri let out a cry and dropped what she’d been holding… a pottery shard, Kenta realized, part of the smashed plate, all streaked with food and blood that must have come from the woman’s hand.  


As soon as the shard fell from the barbarian woman’s fingers, Lord Theodora’s hands were on Kenta. She pulled him away from Gyuri, whose arm dropped unresistingly from around his waist. Relief flooded Kenta’s whole body, and he tucked himself tightly against her solid frame. She pulled him in even tighter, and he relished the protection of those preternaturally strong arms. _Safe._  


The god kept moving, sweeping Kenta to the edge of the curtain. Several of her other offerings were also clustered there, Kenta realized dazedly, five or six men all clamoring worriedly. Of course- as crowded as their little suite of rooms was, little went on without everyone’s knowledge. Lord Theodora hushed them all with a gesture, never taking her eyes from Kenta’s face.  


“Are you all right?” she asked. Rather than waiting for his response, she took his face between her rough hands with startling gentleness and tipped his chin up so she could stare worriedly at his throat. Once she was satisfied that he hadn’t been cut, she started checking him all over.  


Kenta was heart-poundingly aware of Gyuri somewhere behind the god’s carelessly turned back. Wasn’t Lord Theodora worried?  


Hisao seemed to share his apprehension. “My lord, the woman-”  


“Kenta first,” Lord Theodora interrupted. Kenta had never heard her cut someone off before. Still, her inattention seemed to be warranted. He didn’t hear so much as a peep or sense so much as a twitch out of Gyuri.  


He was beginning to feel self-conscious under his master’s fierce scrutiny, not to mention the attention of all the other men. He dropped his head shyly.  


“I’m all right, my lord.” He was proud that his voice didn’t shake at all. “I’m sorry for making such a fuss over some pottery.”  


“Sharp pottery will break skin and open veins as well as anything else,” Lord Theodora said darkly. “You were right to be worried. I’m very sorry that this happened to you, Kenta. I should have gotten you out immediately. You never should have had to ask.”  


“P-please, my lord, there’s no need for that.” Now his voice shook a little. The god apologized to all of her offerings, but Kenta was still unused to the idea and it made him rather uncomfortable.  


Lord Theodora finally pulled back, seeming satisfied. She embraced Kenta tightly and spoke over his shoulder.  


“Hiroki, would you please fetch Julia? I don’t think I broke Gyuri’s wrist, but she should still take a look at it. And Fuminori, would you do me a favor and look in on Chujiro? If he was able to hear the commotion, I’m sure it confused him. Hisao, please see to Gyuri.”  


There were murmurs of affirmation and hurrying footsteps, and then Lord Theodora was simply holding him. Kenta let himself relax into her protection and thought for what must be the hundredth time that he was the luckiest offering in the world, bed privileges be damned.  


“My lord?” That was Joji, the oldest of the men after Chujiro. He usually adopted a lofty manner, almost haughty, but right now his voice was small and frightened. “What will you do with the woman?”  


Lord Theodora pulled back and regarded all of them. She looked grim, and Kenta quailed a little on Gyuri’s behalf.  


“That depends on all of you,” she said. “This is your home, and I won’t have any of you feeling unsafe here. Will you feel threatened if Gyuri stays? If so, I can find her another master.”  


“But my lord, you want her here,” Joji protested.  


The god shrugged. “Well, yes. But more than that, I want you to feel secure.” The corner of her mouth lifted. “I can’t offer you sex or much by way of space or privacy, so safety is really the only benefit of staying with me.”  


That was so untrue. Kenta had only just barely entered the little world of Lord Theodora’s rooms, but he already knew what staying with her meant. It meant everyone sitting around the table together, even the god who didn’t eat regular food, chattering easily with one another. It meant a little room for each of them, even though they were just curtains dividing the three bedrooms into several parts, and Lord Theodora’s space being no bigger than any of the others. It meant nights of card games where they all bet chore vouchers and Lord Theodora lost every hand and took on every task uncomplainingly for the next few days. It meant Lord Theodora escorting Hisao to visits with his lover, who worked in the kitchens, so that none of the other gods would bother him. It meant the god rushing to his rescue as soon as he was in trouble and telling him to shelter behind her when Lord Marcus was trying to trade for him. It meant companionship and warmth, and Kenta wished with sudden ferocity that Gyuri would just come out of her corner and give them all a chance.  


He looked at her for the first time. Her back was pressed against the wall. She was allowing Hisao to look at her wrist and staring at Lord Theodora’s back with such naked terror that the last of Kenta’s fear dissolved into pity.  


The other men were still hesitating over the god’s question. It was intimidating to speak when they all knew each other so well and he was still so new here, but Kenta gathered his courage and spoke up.  


“Please don’t send her away, my lord. She’s just frightened. I’m sure she won’t do it again.”  


Lord Theodora looked back at him, eyebrows raised.  


“Are you sure that’s what you want?” she asked. “You have more reason to want her gone than anyone.”  


“She’s frightened,” Kenta repeated. “I was frightened too, at first. She just needs a little patience, like I did.”  


Lord Theodora smiled then, one of her rare true smiles that made her stern eyes crinkle and her whole face relax.  


“Hanyu was right,” she said. “You really are the kindest person, Kenta. What about the rest of you? Are you willing to let Gyuri stay?”  


None of the other men were as passionate in the barbarian woman’s defense as Kenta had been, but they all agreed. She would not be banished.  


“Lord Julia is here!” Fuminori called from the entranceway. They all began dropping to their knees in preparation for the god’s entry, but once he was kneeling on her level Kenta couldn’t resist a glance over at Gyuri.  


She was looking at him as well, and her thin, pointed face was deathly pale with fear. Of course… the poor woman had no idea that she was safe now. Kenta smiled at her as reassuringly as he knew how.  


Just before he bent into his full bow, he saw her face transform from dread to bewilderment, her mouth gaping open a little.  


That meant that he was right, Kenta decided. She expected the worst from all of them and just needed to be proved wrong a few times. A little patience, a little kindness, and this strange little family he’d become a part of would get Gyuri out of the corner in no time.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gyuri gives her own perspective on things.

GYURI

When Gyuri was a child, she had thought she would never be afraid once she was a grownup. They all seemed to know exactly what to do and how to react to every problem. 

She hadn’t been, at first. She hadn’t been afraid of the husband her father had chosen for her. He had been a perfectly alright man, and she hadn’t had any objections to marrying him. But then there had been the drought, and her little brothers and sisters sobbing their unbearable hunger through the night, and her mother giving up her own portions for them day after day until finally Gyuri had stood over her freshly dug grave and let her thoughts turn to the fat, spoiled Tacians in their walls. She had run away that very night to join a war band, and she had been so sure that after all that pain, she had finally found the steady fearlessness of adulthood.

Instead, she was afraid all the time. She was afraid of her secret being discovered whenever anyone in the band touched her or looked at her too closely. She was afraid every time she had to remove her bindings. She was afraid when they raided the Tacian villages and all those tall, well-fed guards came out to fight them. She was afraid when the runners reported that the Tacian monster-gods’ ship had docked in their great city. She was afraid a week later when a peaceful night came alive with those same monster-gods, moving so quickly her eyes couldn’t quite follow them and ripping her band apart without even trying. 

She’d been _terrified_ when the great hulking monster-god stalked toward her with his entire body black with blood, though she’d tried not to be. She had gripped her spear tightly with her shaking hands and rushed at him, and she suspected that it was the high pitch of her war cry that had betrayed her.

She’d been afraid when he broke her spear with a single careless movement, and when he tore her fighting leathers as if they were cobwebs. She’d been afraid when he’s smiled at the sight of her bindings and unwound them with careful delicacy, even giving her a mocking little bow at the end when her breasts had sprung free into the chilly night air. She’d been afraid when he’d dragged her up to a little silver-haired monster-god who regarded her with cool, disinterested eyes as they talked, clearly about her, in a language she didn’t understand. She’d been afraid when the big one shoved her at a monster-god who was watching over the other survivors, bedraggled and pitifully few.

One of them was her former captain. He’d been teaching her to use a sword, saying that her quickness and clever eye were wasted with a clunky spear. When he saw her exposed, his horror-blank eyes lit with fury and disgust, and he spat on her.

“No wonder they took us so easily,” he snarled. 

The monster-god gave her captain a sharp look and moved him to the other side of the group. No one else seemed to care, if they even noticed. They all had much more to worry about than a woman infiltrating their sacred brotherhood.

The big monster-god who seemed to have them in his charge settled near the center of the group and gave them all what seemed to be intended as a reassuring smile. It would have soothed Gyuri more if he hadn’t been as streaked with blood as the rest and his pupils hadn’t been blown wide with want and wildness.

“Hello,” the monster-god said in their language, and his tone was polite, if strained. “My name is Felix. I don’t suppose it will come as any great comfort, but I can assure you that you will be well fed and cared for. After you’ve acclimated, you’ll be allowed more privileges and freedom of movement. I will be checking up on you regularly, as will my colleague Julia.”

It had all been very matter-of-fact, and Gyuri had been struck dumb by the contrast between his calm, reasonable tone and the blood staining his lips and chin, the frenetic movement of his eyes.

She had been afraid when the small monster-god with silver hair had come and begun kissing Felix wildly, and when another monster-god took up the watch over them so that Felix and the little one could go away together. She had been afraid when they loaded the prisoners in rowboats with only a few of their own to watch them, and when the rest of the monster-gods had slipped into the water and begun towing them through the sea so fast that several of them had vomited. 

She had been even more afraid when the hulking one who had taken her came and separated her from the others. He had taken her to a small room and there had been a human there, soft and pretty and unscarred as a baby, who had groveled at the monster-god’s feet and tied her to a bedpost at his orders. There she had stayed all night, her fear growing and growing as she watched the brutality that was unleashed on the poor pretty slave.

By the time the monster-god was sated, she felt sure that she was as frightened as it was possible for a person to be. But then he had shoved a filmy white robe at her, which for some reason made the slave look sadder than any of the horrible things that had happened to him all day, and after everything she had seen it didn’t even enter her head to disobey. Then it was up the stairs, into the moonlight with the little monster-god in their company again, and right up to the wheel.

She had been surprised to see that a woman… well, a female monster-god… was steering the ship. She was less surprised once she got a good look at her. The woman was dark and fierce and broad with muscle and she showed no deference as the men approached her, though the fat slave beside her sank down on the deck.

Then there was talking, and the big monster-god who held her prisoner was reaching out to touch the slave, and then there was fighting, and Felix appeared and seemed to calm things down, and then the little monster-god took Gyuri’s rope and gave it to the female.

She had been afraid when the female looked down at her and turned her stern mouth up into a forced smile and introduced herself in Gyuri’s own language as Theodora, and when Theodora and the slave had led her back down into the ship. The slave had been crying a bit, and the monster-god had put her arm around his shoulders as they walked. Was she trying to keep him from running? 

Gyuri had been afraid when they walked through a door and were immediately surrounded by a great crowd of soft, pretty men. She had been distracted by all the commotion and chattering, and then she had been blindingly afraid when Theodora drew a knife and advanced on her.

Gyuri had lashed out then, trying to tangle the monster-god’s legs with a kick, but it had been like kicking and striking at a desert stone. Theodora simply held out her hand.

“I told you, I’m just going to cut that rope off your neck,” the monster-god said.

“Not you, fiend,” Gyuri had spat through lips that threatened to begin quivering at any moment. “Give it to one of them.”

“None of my friends have trained as soldiers the way you did,” Theodora replied. “I think you’ve guessed that, and I think you plan to take the knife. Now hold still, please.”

The monster-god wasn’t wrong. Gyuri could see at a glance that all the men were Tacian, and they seemed just as useless and decadent as every story she’d ever heard about them. They clustered about making soft, concerned noises like a cage full of pigeons until Theodora said something in their nasty, slithery language and they all drew back. Gyuri had indeed been planning to overpower one of them and take the knife.

Gyuri had made a halfhearted jab for Theodora’s eyes with her fingers, but she wasn’t really surprised when her hand was caught out of the air with such ease that the touch was even gentle. She thrashed in Theodora’s grip as the monster-god lifted her knife, hoping that if nothing else she could get the fiend to stab her accidentally and grant her a quick death. That effort had failed, too. Theodora was so devilishly quick and skilled with her knife that despite her frantic movements, Gyuri never felt even the faintest kiss of metal.

Once the monster-god let her go, Gyuri had torn through the crowd of clucking not-men and scrambled into a corner, pressing her back against the wall and scowling and swearing at all of them. She screamed and scratched whenever any of them dared to get close until finally Theodora had hung some fabric to hide her and she hadn’t had to look at them, except when the monster-god came to talk to her or the timid fat slave from the deck came to bring her meals. She had gotten a certain satisfaction from ignoring Theodora and from gnashing her teeth and hissing at the slave to make him startle and flee.

And she was afraid.

She was afraid when the platter fell and she was spattered with hot food, but her eyes had locked on the biggest piece of the smashed plate before the ship had even finished its plunge. By the time she decided to pick it up, it was already in her hand and she was launching herself at the timid slave.

She still didn’t know what she’d been planning. They were on a ship… did she plan to demand a rowboat and paddle herself away to drown in the first storm? Anyhow, she wasn’t going to get far with a human slave as a hostage. Theodora must have had almost a dozen of them. She was about to drop the shard and go back to her corner when the other man appeared and went off squawking Theodora’s name.

All of that, and Gyuri still hadn’t known how deeply fear could chill a body until the monster-god came raging through the door. Her face was a mask of fury, her eyes were blazing, and Gyrui remembered with a sudden sick drop of her stomach how strong those clenched hands were.

Theodora had said something in Tacian, then she turned her burning gaze on Gyuri.

“What the _fuck_ do you think you’re doing?” she shouted. Gyuri had never heard her voice raised before. “If you don’t let go of Kenta this _instant,_ I am going to throw you out of these rooms and-”

Gyuri had pressed her makeshift weapon closer to the slave’s neck, feeling the sharp edges slice into her own skin as she gripped it. Theodora fell silent.

“That is exactly what I am demanding, stupid fiend!” Gyuri shouted back. “I want to be released from these rooms and this ship!”

She didn’t know how that would be accomplished. She knew she was making a fool of herself. But what the fuck _else_ was there for her to do?

“I’m not one of your Tacian bootlickers,” she went on. “You’ll get no pleasure from having me around. You might as well-”

The slave- Kenta- had squeaked something out, and before Gyuri could even finish her sentence her arm was being yanked over her head. She hadn’t seen so much as a flicker of movement, but there was Theodora, glaring down into her face as she slowly increased the pressure of her hand around Gyuri’s wrist.

She had wanted to hold on, to scream defiance even as every bone in her wrist snapped, but pain was so much easier to withstand in daydreams than reality. It had taken only a few seconds for her to let the shard fall.

Then Theodora was ripping Kenta out of her arms and hustling him over to the flock of chattering not-men, and she didn’t even look over her shoulder to see what Gyuri would do.

Of course she wouldn’t. She understood, just like Gyuri herself. 

There was nothing she could do.

All her training was useless against the monster-god’s brute strength and lightning speed. All her cunning and strategizing would not magic up a way off this ship. And no amount of reasoning or pleading, even if she had been able to bend her pride enough to try it, would spare her from Theodora’s vengeance. 

Gyuri backed away until her back hit the wall, then she slid to the floor and cradled her throbbing wrist.

She hadn’t expected this stunt to work, not really. But she also hadn’t expected it to infuriate Theodora the way it had. Why did the monster-god care if she was a little rough with one of her many playthings?

Gyuri had miscalculated how much Theodora disliked having her things touched. Perhaps she had miscalculated fatally.

That was the hell of it. She didn’t want to die on this stupid boat, at the hands of some stupid foreign god that she didn’t worship, after doing nothing in her life that mattered to anyone. She wanted to do things and see things, even if she hardly knew what, and one day she wanted to go home to her family full of riches and deeds. She didn’t want Theodora to stop petting her stupid little slave and come over to her and snap her neck.

At least Theodora would make it quick, she thought. Others, like the big monster-god who had captured her-

_Oh no._

Every moment of fear had all led to this, the moment of purest terror she had ever felt, when she realized that Theodora might give her back to him.

Gyuri was only vaguely aware of one of the pretty not-men coming to fuss over her wrist. Even if she’d dared to strike out at him in Theodora’s presence, she didn’t have the energy to focus on anything other than the horrifying prospect that her mind had just raised.

One of the slaves shouted something from another room and they all started getting on their knees. Gyuri’s eyes automatically followed the movement, then caught on the face of the timid one she’d threatened.

He was still pale from the encounter, and she could see that his lips were still trembling just the tiniest bit. However, when he smiled at her it wasn’t the triumphant sneer she would have expected but a true smile, bright and sincere, that warmed his eyes and wrinkled his round face.

What the fuck was the matter with this stupid boy?

A female monster-god walked in with a large chest slung easily under one arm. She was tall and slender as a reed, with a lovely face that turned dispassionately over all the not-men. Theodora led her over to the wall where Gyuri slumped.

“This is Julia,” she said. She met Gyuri’s eyes for the first time since she’d pulled Kenta away from her. “She’s our healer. Will you let her look at your wrist?”

Gyuri complied numbly. Julia began pressing down on her wrist, asking periodically in Surgish more broken than either Theodora or Felix used, “Now hurt? Now hurt?”

It did, but Gyuri was too proud or frightened or both to give any answer. Julia and Theodora conferred for a bit, then Julia rummaged in her chest until she withdrew a length of bandage. It reminded Gyuri of the breast bindings she had used during her time in the war band. Julia wound it around Gyuri’s wrist with practiced care, then stared at her and lifted her own arm.

“Up,” she said, gesturing to Gyuri. “Up finger. You up. You…”

Frustrated with Gyuri’s incomprehension, she turned to Theodora and released a torrent of snappish Tacian.

“She wants you to keep your wrist higher than your heart,” Theodora said at last. “She says it will swell less.”

Gyuri felt foolish. How many times had she heard her own mother give the same advice? She lifted her arm obediently, and Julia nodded in satisfaction.

“Rock,” she said approvingly. Gyuri thought she might have meant ‘Good.’ 

Julia left, and Theodora spoke to the soft slaves and they left as well. Kenta tossed another gentle smile at Gyuri on his way out.

It annoyed her, even through her sick apprehension. Why on earth would the stupid creature be smiling at her? Was he mocking her?

Then thoughts of Kenta were swept away by a cold rush of fear as Theodora came and crouched in front of her. The monster-god’s face was stern, but that was no different from usual. How the fuck was Gyuri supposed to tell what she was thinking when she glowered all the time? Would she just keep that pensive frown while she plucked Gyuri’s head from her neck? It would be as easy for her as pulling a berry off its stem…

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Theodora said, and Gyuri tensed for whatever lightning-quick action would come next. “If you’re ever violent towards any of my friends again, I’ll have to find somewhere else for you to live.”

“Friends!” A scoff tore through her throat. Gyuri knew she shouldn’t antagonize the powerful fiend, but she couldn’t stop herself. “That’s a pretty word for your passel of slaves!”

She saw the barb hit home and regretted it at once. Theodora’s grim face grew grimmer. Gyuri braced herself.

“I do what I can for them,” the monster-god said. “I know it’s not enough, but it’s all I can give.”

“Beatings and rape are a gift here?” Gyuri was going to say more, but her voice died when she saw Theodora’s fingers coil into a tight fist. 

“I have _never_ laid a hand on any of them in violence or lust,” the monster-god ground out. “Will you please tell me where you got that idea?”

“The big one who took me. He had a pretty slave like all of yours, and-”

 _”Marcus.”_ It was a growl. Gyuri lowered her injured wrist. Swelling or no, she did not wish to leave her torso exposed when a monster-god was growling. “That poison-hearted beast… he took his pleasure with you in the room?”

Gyuri nodded, blessedly struck speechless. _About time I ran out of stupid things to say._

“I am sorry.” Theodora’s voice was calm again, but her eyes still blazed. “That must have been very frightening for you. I’m sorry for his offering as well, but I learned long ago not to show Marcus that I’m paying his behavior any attention. I would be doing that boy no favors.”

“Like you do yours.” Damn, the speechlessness was gone again. 

“I don’t delude myself that this life with me is all the life they deserve. But surely you can see the difference? My friends aren’t cowed around me.”

“Neither is that boy. He’s eager and worshipful just like all your slaves, no matter what _Marcus_ does to him.”

That blow hit even harder. Theodora actually flinched. 

Gyuri felt a swell of satisfaction, but it faded quickly. She had been stupid to bring Marcus up right after what she had done, when she was worried that Theodora would…

“Do not give me back to him.” It came out like an order, not an appeal. Gyuri realized that she was not very good at being a prisoner. 

Theodora looked up, wide-eyed, and said a word in Tacian that Gyuri suspected was not intended for polite company. Well, she hardly counted as ‘polite company’ regardless.

“I would _never,”_ the monster-god sputtered. “I wouldn’t give that man a fish that needed gutting!”

Gyuri was not reassured by the comparison.

“I would have found you someone safe to stay with,” Theodora went on. “Felix, maybe, though he’s absurdly picky. Or Julia, or Thaddeus, or Iovita… hell, even Antony. He’s a prick, but he wouldn’t hurt you. But that’s not at issue. My friends are willing to let you stay.”

 _Really? That flock of spoiled cowards?_ Gyuri was proud that she managed to keep the words inside her head. Still, her astonishment must have shown on her face, because Theodora’s grim mouth tipped up into the faintest smile.

“They’re good people, Gyuri. You should get to know them a bit instead of hiding behind your curtain all the time.” The monster-god got up and started towards that very curtain, pausing only to toss over her shoulder, “Besides, you stink.”

“The fat one wanted me to stay, too?” Gyuri blurted. She didn’t care if the fiend and her slaves thought she stank, at least not much.

“His name is Kenta, and he’s the one who spoke up in your defense.” Theodora’s smile stretched wider. “I’d say you owe him your thanks as well as an apology. I’ll teach you the words.”

“I’m not apologizing to one of your soft little bootlickers!” Gyuri snapped, but the monster-god was already gone.


End file.
